After the Tree
by Mr Platypus
Summary: The events occuring after Warcraft III. A single hero, along with his companions, travel and purge the world. NEW!!! CHAPTER 3, NEW AND BETTER!!!!
1. A Hero

I recently finished (cheat free) the entire easy campaign on Warcraft III, and have started on hard. I am awed!! Another amazing game by Blizzard!!! PLAY IT, YOU!!! Everyone is aware that they will make an expansion pack, right? I mean, what happens to Arthas, and that night elf hero turned Demon guy, and, and and. It'd be SO freaking cool to play as the Burning Legion. (drools all over self) anyway, the story is about Warcraft III, which I don't own. Now! To the story!  
  
'You know that when my swords leave their sheaths, they will not return there, until either you or I are dead.' I told he who had once been a friend.  
  
'Good. I don't like sissy chicken fools.' He responded.  
  
We drew our swords, both of us, together. Despite the large sword he wielded, he struck first, slashing open my left knee cap, splattering the nearby rock face with my blood.  
  
No. I should start the story earlier. I was, long ago, the greatest advisor to the king. The king that sat upon a throne that, had not the undead come, would be filled with Arthas, once paladin, now a part of a great evil. I have long forgotten the name I had then, and many names I have had since. This all occurred after the Great Alliance, Night Elves, Humans, and Orcs, all fighting, not only under a common cause, but under a common banner, a common leader. I had effectively taken the position of military leader of all of the races. When I was sent, disguised as a foot soldier, to inspect a rebellion of a group of the elves, I was amazed. I was quite sufficient in combat, even then. But the king had never asked me to voyage out of his personal guard's patrol territory. I hadn't suspected the corruption just yet. I still wonder if he knew of it then.  
  
En route, near Blackrock, our small group came across a war party of Undead. We knew not of it then, but the undead had rebelled from the Burning Legion's control, under Kel'Thuzulad, (I hope I spelled that right) Arthas, and the Lich King. Needless to say, they absolutely slaughtered us. Near when we had fallen, my personal escort, which I had grown relatively close to, along with me, took a large blow from an abomination. The escort was instantly slain, and my shield was knocked from my hand. I lay, lightheaded for a moment, as the abomination turned away. When I regained my head a few moments later, I reached over and picked up the escort's sword, and readied it in my left hand. A bloodlust came over me, and I charged.  
  
I was no hero. Better than your average foot man, but not much. Tactically, I was far, far superior, but not in combat. I rushed up to the abomination, and, almost as though in slow motion, stuck one blade into his torn belly. I then jumped higher than seemingly possible, blade slashing a line up the beast as I went. Near it's head, I removed the blade, and went a few feet higher. As I fell back down again, I spun, fast, blades out, chopping the beast into pieces. When I landed, I was barely breathing hard. The abomination lay, dead at my feet. I then attacked the leader of this evil expedition, a Death Knight, quite like Arthas himself- still alive, but serving the Undead Scourge nonetheless. His back was tuned to me. I threw one of the blades, and it imbedded deep into his back, poking out substantially in the front, splattering live blood on his ghouls, who proceeded to try to consume the blood for regained health, but succeeded only in consuming each other. The Death Knight turned, shaking slightly from pain. I ran, and, as he prepared to cast Death Coil, leaped onto the front of his horse. The Knight, in surprise, failed his casting. In a single swing, I beheaded him. His head, over pale and wide eyed, flew far and high, until hitting a tree edging nearby woods. It left a bloodstain that would remain for a long, long time.  
  
Despite my effort, however, we were still overcome. Moments after the beheading, a blast from a gargoyle knocked me flat onto the ground, and I blacked out.  
  
Whew. First chapter. It'll get better later, but every story needs a beginning, right? REVIEW!! This isn't quite the way I wrote before, so I need, and CRAVE criticism (assuming it's relatively constructive) 


	2. A Companion

Hey, all. Sorry, it's been a while, but I do have homework. Anyway, I decided to make the begging of the story a dream sequence of events in the future, taking off from where the narrator ended his beginning of his story the previous chapter. Boy, that was probably confusing! Just the way I like it! Thank you for reading, and (hopefully) reviewing, and here it comes. The next chapter.  
  
He laughed at my misfortune. "Ha ha ha ha ha! Puny fool. Did you truly maintain the belief that you could stop my conquest?" I leaned against the rock wall, then slowly slid down it, the blood and cartilage wiping itself across the back of my armor. "No, I never thought I could stop you. I just." I never finished the sentence that I never would come up with an ending for, because I had struck out, quickly, and violently, cutting open his over elaborate armor at the chest. "Gah!" he yelled, and leaped back like a scarred little bird. Far less graceful, though. He crashed to the hard rock ground, further damaging his weakened plate mail. I stood, as well as I could, with a crippled limb. Suddenly, he grabbed my ankle, and rolled towards the edge of the ground, which would lead into a sudden drop, then to the water that our armor would drown us in.  
  
After the raid, I wandered the lands, loosing sense of location, direction, and time. A few weeks after my departure from the raid location, I removed my armor. Having fought many times, now, in battle with the undead, and also having attempted unmounted travel, I started a fire, and made corrections that would allow ease of travel, as well as slightly increased defense. I also began learning the magical arts of healing, and of a form of defense, not of the shield, the armor, or the thick skin, but of the magic and the mind.  
  
I watched many battles being fought, between all sides, and learned some of each of their arts. The night elves, hiding and remaining honor less, but maintaining the great powers of nature, and utilizing them fully. The orcs, with their brutal powers, spells of pure destruction, yet full of honor and greatness, strength and resolve. The humans, now seen from an outside perspective, eating the few resources they had, taking what wasn't theirs, but fighting for what they believed morally correct. The undead, using the unholy magics, the evilest things, killing there own to make a stronger warrior, yet horribly efficient, powerful, and subservient to their leaders.  
  
None alone could take these lands from one another, but each could hold their own. Nearly like a four-sided Ying Yang, where each were constantly changing possessions, loosing and winning equal amounts, making for a world that was only good, yet would become horribly worse without one. Yet my disrespect for the undead grew. Really, they did not fit in this world. Nor did the burning legion, a power not yet wielded in these lands, as harshly as they soon would be. Both could be removed, and would be a far better land for it. I grew determined, as I found a goal. To unify all of the three decent groups, real unification that had not been possible under the monarchy our majesty had. And to crush the two evils, under the heels of our boots, and chase them trough their own lands, banished forever to the ethereal Hells. Later I wondered if it were good. Had not this been thought of of the orcs, before the night elves emerged, and the coming of the undead? But they had been under the spell of the burning legion. Were the undead redeemable? No, they were now fighting the legion, yet were as foul as ever.  
  
One battle I wandered across was between the orcish hordes and the undead. In this battle, I saw Arthas himself grace the battle. Two orc heroes fought, both drawing closer and closer to the Death Knight. Intentionally. They intended to kill him. He was not yet undead, and even of they destroyed his revival altar, his remains would be brought to the Sunwell. But, for now, it was a good goal. Worry about the Sunwell when we got that far. I quickly joined in against the undead. The orcs were surprised at my coming. They had not been a part of His Majesty's alliance.  
  
As I fought, hacking and slashing at the undead, and crushing their piled corpses beneath my feet, I saw a flag bearer for the clan. Yes, in fact, they had been a part of the alliance. So what was with the odd gazes?  
  
We crushed the Scourge faster than seemed possible. Me, the Blade master, and the Tauren chieftain reached Arthas at nearly the same time. He challenged any one of us to a single duel against him. The Tauren chieftain quickly agreed. All the rest of the army backed away from the area. They readied their weapons, and charged.  
  
Arthas was mounted, so he came faster, and had a great advantage. His Frostmoure stabbed into the tree trunk the Chieftain held, and Arthas tossed the great log aside as though it were kindling. And it shattered on the ground, quickly becoming kindling. The chief's rage built, and he swung his arm like a club, knocking the great war horse from under the Death Knight. Arthas recovered his legs, and pulled back, out of the range of the Chief. The great Tauren warrior charged, and grabbed a hold of the blade, Frostmourne. He, with his other hand, pulled Arthas's long, once blonde-gold, now death white hair. Now it was the Tauren's turn to do the tossing. He tossed the great, metal clad warrior far. He hit the ground with a bone-grinding crunch, bet the Possessed Prince stood quickly. He readied his sword, and waited for the Tauren's next charge. The Chief obliged, due to his blinding bloodlust. By some miracle, the Tauren was able to get a hold of Arthas, and, with a hoof, pushed into Arthas' skull clad knee, breaking bone after bone. Arthas collapsed, and, with a flourish, tossed his blade into the air. Arthas seemed dead. His blade landed tip down, slightly tilted. The War chief of the Taurens reached quickly down to check Arthas' pulse, seemed satisfied, and walked to the blade, as the Blade master and I were arriving to it.  
  
The Tauren said, his bloodlust fading, "It is yours, Thunderkill. You are more suited to it." Thunderkill mumbled, so only I could hear it "That was too easy" I could see he did not want it stated loudly, for the Tauren would probably take it for an insult. He paced forward, put his hand so it was nearly wrapping around it but not touching it. "It was far to easy" He repeated, this time louder. "To easy?!? TO EASY!?! That was the hardest battle I've ever fought!" The Chieftain raged. "I don't trust it. You can have it if you want." He spoke to me, but the Tauren, hot tempered as he was and having killed the previous owner himself, ran forward and grabbed the handle. As soon as his fist wrapped around the handle, Frostmourne disappeared. The Tauren waited a moment. He started heaving with a horrible anger. He turned slightly purple, grew larger, and turned around. His eyes were larger than was natural, and he quaked down to his bones. He charged at us. The blade master, Thunderkill, backed away as fast as he could go backwards, befuddled. As he ran past me, I, having figured out he was no longer quite exactly friendly, stabbed my sword into his knee. He fell to his knees. (the opposite way you would think, because Tauren and human kneecaps face different directions.) He swung his entire torso around in a srike for me. I was knocked far back. Clearly, Thunderkill wasn't ready to take initiative and attack hia Tauren once-friend. Neither was his army. The Possesed Tauren, despite his painful wound and the sword in his knee, stood up, breaking the sword on his obviously hardened bones. He charged me again, and, as he neared, I fell backwards, stabbing my sword into his chest, swinging him over me with my anchored sword and foot, and collapsing him on my other side. I stood, and chopped his head off, splattering the sand with Tauren blood. He was dead, and the possession by the Phantom Frostmourne had disabled his Reincarnation ability. I heaved a great sigh, and sat. Thunderkill came up to me. He said, mournfully, "You saved my life, and the lives of many of my men. What overtook Ironhoof, I have no idea. But you, human, are a friend. Unlike your king, I might add, who so recently seceded from the alliance, completely shattering it"  
  
I was amazed. The king was a fool without me. Or maybe. maybe. But me and this Thunderkill, we needed to talk. We needed to talk a lot.  
  
Whew. That is probably the most I've ever written in one sitting. Another chapter will not be added unless I get some good reviews, or at least some reviews at all. Also check back from time to time, I may update my chapters. But, now, REVIEW!!! FOOL!!! 


	3. The Second Companion

Damn!! My Italics become normal print in Fanfiction!!! My triple periods become one period!!! GAAHHH!!!! It is SOOOOOOO aggravating!!! Sorry for the delay. Anyway, NEXT CHAPTER!!!  
  
  
  
  
  
I held on to dear life for the last nearby thing. I realized that my opponent thought he would live. "This, old friend, shall be both our graves" I said. I looked up, and realized why he thought he would win, but also, what made my statement very true. What I held was HIS lifeline. He had placed a totem down, that would reincarnate him, should he die. He expected to die, but also to be revived. As long as I held on, however, he would die, at the time that it slipped out off its earthly shell. Suddenly, the totem began slipping, and then we were falling, falling. . .  
  
Why Jaina Proudmoore crowned the king as king made no sense to me. She could have kept the throne, or something. Now, this man was clearly corrupt. He had, sense my leaving, backstabbed on every alliance, allied, it seemed, with the undead, and removed all bonds with the majority of the humans, as well as the Order of the Paladins. Its base center was now a school for death knights. Many Paladins had been killed, and very few walked the earth now. Ruene ThunderKill had told me all this, as well as assigning me the orcish title 'PaleSword' It was orc rule of honor that the humans have Pale in their titles. Very few humans had Orcish titles. It was a great honor. But, ThunderKill said that he knew the council would have appointed me a title in an instant. "You are recognized, with the orcs, as the last symbol of the great alliance that had been. You disappeared, unannounced, right before the king's corruption. We assume you left when you realized what he became."  
  
Where had Proudmoore set off to? I began to wonder, and I decided to find her, perhaps even to re establish the throne. I told of my musings to ThunderKill one day, as we marched further and further towards Blackrock. "I will travel with you. I. . . cannot go before the council and tell them of Iron Hoof. The army will find their way there, one way or another. Taare here" A grunt perked up at this. I guessed his name was Taare, "will tell them what happened. It is. . . I. . . wish I could stay to find out what the council says, but, until then. . ." He took a moment here, to think. "We go now, to the last place that she could be. The only place she would be allowed, but would not have heard of the king. Taevos."  
  
When I asked him where Taevos was, he said, "It is a great human city, larger than any orcish city, that lies west of here. No one knows of it except the human king, and people who are there. Jaina was once king, you know." "How, then, do you know of it?" I asked. "I served as a scout to the hordes. I, unlike every other one who has tried the labyrinthine caves, found the correct path. Worry not, we will find no resistance. The caves are well cleared."  
  
We set off, apart form the great army of the hordes, within hours. Soon, we were finding rocky paths, and a slight but steady uphill slope. Thunderkill kept making comments, like "I wish I. . ." "But. . . If I had. . ." but he never finished any of them. I never asked. I knew. He was thinking of his long time companion, Ironhoof, and mourning.  
  
Occasionally, Thunderkill did make a comment about the fallen hero. I discovered he had been related to the great Carne, best friend of thrall. I knew both of these names. Thrall had first established the council. Thrall was clearly, in the orcish mind, Godlike.  
  
A few weeks after setting out, we came across a cavern that I never would have seen, had not Thunderkill pointed it out. We slipped in, barely fitting through with our armor, and I saw a great many tunnels, snaking out in front of me. There were three levels of passages. I counted. Forty- six. Forty-six different caves. Strewn around the caves were the bodies of battlers who had clearly died in combat. It looked as though there had been a dragon down the caves. Or maybe it was an elaborate hoax, set to stop people from exploring father. Or maybe they actually had a guard dragon.  
  
Ruene Thunderkill was carfully inspecting a wall, to the right side of the cave. He soon walked over to a pile of bones of a man who and died in a burst of flames. He then proceeded to pick up his hammer, and stab the but end confidently into the rock face. It went in without resistance. He held it there a moment more, then the rock slided, as though magically, into the rock around it. The rocks themselves didn't slide, the rock simply squished into the rock around it, opening a small tunnel.  
  
"Go. Quickly" Ruene said. I went through, and he followed. A split moment after he passed through, the great archway sealed.  
  
We weaved through the tunnel. Far more branches occurred, but Ruene was confident. We walked many hours, and we came across a small chamber. A necromancer stood in front of a great stone statue of a death Knight, poised to strike. It was, however, already a skeleton, and had waving hair under it's helmet. It almost reminded me of. . . someone. . .I couldn't quite remember. Around him stood many skeletons, readied for battle. But no one had noticed us, standing in the entryway.  
  
The necromancer began chanting spells and gesturing to the statue. I looked at the necromancer, then, when I looked back at the statue, it was no longer a statue! It was a real death knight. Without ride, however. The necromancer began speaking. "You, Knight of the Lich, have been summoned for service of the Burning Legion. Whereas the Lich buried you among the rocks for eternity, the Legion frees you. Do our service, or be banished again." Apparently, some undead were still working for the Legion. The Knight's only response was, "let me leave this place." The necromancer's back was to us, and the knight glanced to us. My heart filled with fear. Surly, if the Legion went to the effort of freeing him, he must be great. I was ready to cry out in despair, when he nodded. He then turned back to the necromancer. He's going to tell him! I thought. Instead, he waited. The necromancer began to turn to go. Before he could see us, however, the Knight said, "Necromancer!" he turned back. " have you ever desired to become a lich?" He asked. "Yes, I would like that very much. Why?" you could tell, he expected the hero to say that he would allow him to cast the spell, making it so he would become a lich upon death. Instead, however, he said, "Then we shall see if the Legion thinks you worthy!!" the huge Knight then proceeded to cut the necromancer's head off with his mighty two handed sword. All three of us quickly dispersed of the remaining skeletons.  
  
"Greetings. Might I ask who you are?" the Knight asked "I am who was once the king's advisor, now named PaleSword." I stated, with an attempted air of pride, which probably looked foolish, considering how dirty (and smelly) I inevitably was. Ruene, reassured by my trust in the Knight, said, "I am the warrior ThunderKill, of the orcish council. You are?" "I am called Death by many humans, most recently called Outcast by the undead, and the Lich. You may call me by the name I bore when I was human, if you wish; Gaath Lochnair" "YOU were Gath Lochnair?" I asked, amazed. If this were true, than he would truly be a prize worth having. "Yes. The Lich rejected me because I proved unbrokenly loyal to the human Alliance. You, I believe, were quite important to the alliance. What, might I ask, are you doing here?" I responded somberly "The alliance has broken" Gath Lochnair, the once-sword master amongst humans, the founder of an order that was quickly rivaling the paladin one, stared at me, stunned. I said, "yes! It is true! But we have a reason for being in these caves, and have no time to waste! We go now, and if you should want to follow, you would be welcome. But go we must, and now." He responded, "then indeed I shall come, for I have nothing else to do." Ruene quickly found where he had turned wrong, and we set off, once again!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I had intended to go all the way to Jaina with this chapter, but alas, I wrote too much otherwise! Anyway, im going to be writing other stuff for a while, so ( you wont see much more here for a little bit. 


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